Hey,
Here's this week's Divorced Dad poem.
A Divorced Dad Howls
at the Moon
The moon,
She’s a bone-white eardrum
Stretched bare across a littered sky.
A confessor,
A bolt of crinkled paper suspended in quiet,
A discontinued firemen’s net
-
Scuttled by the grave of time.
He’s in the backyard,
Stripped to the waist.
Sober. The weekend
toys
Lodged neatly in plastic tubs.
Feeling the downy grass on his bare toes.
It’s one am. And
yet, he can’t stop living this day.
There’s more action to be made. Exaltations,
Dream-seeding, corners to clean.
There’s an itch. An implacable itch,
He fills his lungs with twilight air,
Deeply, and then,
In stark surprise of himself,
He barks. A feral,
joyous, cry.
Moon-bound. He, he
is saying:
Hear me, you lunar
mistress.
I am living. I, I am slowly getting fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment